


Mouth of a Whores Son

by brodylover



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Bisexual Alistair (Dragon Age), First Time, Insecure Alistair (Dragon Age), Light Angst, M/M, Nervousness, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Stripping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 18:03:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7902445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brodylover/pseuds/brodylover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr Prompt: "Was that offer earlier serious?" - zevistair</p><p>Zevran had offered Alistair a blowjob and Alistair isnt sure if he even meant it. Asking for it is hard and leaving Zevran hard is just as bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mouth of a Whores Son

The tent flap was as strong as a brick wall, his hand a tight and cold knot at his side. He couldn’t knock, couldn’t scratch at the canvas, he would be heard and, by more than Zevran, by everyone else in the camp. They’d all know. He was taking a huge chance as he was, just standing there, staring at the material as if he were deciphering whether or not it were a mage (it wasn’t, he was pretty sure).

He could hear Zevran inside, a slight hum that made the world sound far too quiet around it. He wondered what the Antivan was up to, if he were reading something dirty, doing something dirty, or just plain being dirty. He was pretty sure that Zevran was always at least thinking of something dirty, if not planning it. It was all he spoke of, in some semblance.

“Are you going to stand out there all night or would you prefer to not freeze to death?” the humming stopped and Zevran cocked his head, not even moving from where he was.

The fire was at Alistair’s back, he was a fool to think Zevran wouldn’t see his silhouette at the very least. He coughed into his hand and pressed inside.

“Ah, young master Theiren.” Zevran’s mouth quirked around the word. It sounded wrong, too formal.

“I’m not a master.” Alistair stared at his feet, still in his boots. He couldn’t look at Zevran, the elf’s golden skin on display, black ink trailing down his chest, similar in shape to that on his face. There were scars cutting through it as well as the lean muscle and there was a slight shine to him like sweat and Alistair really shouldn’t have come here at all. His armor was getting all sorts of tight and too hot.

“Well, you could be, given enough practice.” Zevran couldn’t see through the armor, Alistair knew that, but he was skimming over it as if he could. “How might I be of service.”

He scratched the back of his neck, needing something to do with his hands. He shifted his weight. He didn’t look at Zevran even as he asked, “Was that offer earlier serious?“

He took the chance to glance up, to see a look of true surprise on Zevran’s face, an eyebrow piqued. “I never thought you’d actually take me up on it.”

“I guess not then.” Alistair sighed, relief flooding him. If he was a fool, he was a fool, he’d always been a fool. He wanted to see what Zevran would do but he didn’t want to do it, not really, he would just mess it all up. “I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

He took a step back, tried to make his way out of the tent, but Zevran wasn’t just an elf, not just a rogue, he was an assassin and he moved as if he were the flickering of a flame, grabbing Alistair by the hands and keeping him there. His narrow fingers, brown under the nails from dried blood and dirt, were wrapped gingerly around his own, as soft as if he were afraid to break Alistair’s stronger hands.

“Come now, I hope you don’t think I’m sending you off.”

“Wouldn’t be surprised.” Alistair chuckled. “I’ve had more than a few jokes that completely missed their mark. Considering how tall I am, it’s a bit of a surprise how much goes over my head.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” Zevran was looking up at him and he had nowhere to look now but at Zevran and his face was turning all sorts of embarrassing colors and he really wanted to be somewhere dark where no one would see him blushing until the humiliation passed. “If you wish, I would. You seem to have some trouble relaxing.”

“Are you offering me some famous Antivan massage?” Alistair laughed harder, but he could even hear how fake he sounded.

“While I do know some very nice ones, I meant the original form of relaxing.” Zevran took a step back, then another, heading backwards towards his bedroll. Alistair moved with him, as if dragged by an invisible hand. Then again, Zevran was still holding his hands in that soft way and he had done nothing to pull away. “I know quite a few techniques. If you like any that I show you tonight, I would be glad to teach you.”

“You sound very sure about this all of the sudden.”

“Well, you did come to my tent asking for my second greatest talent.”

Zevran sat down, pulling Alistair awkwardly down with him. Alistair was freezing, even with the muggy heat permeating the tent. He could feel the blood in his cheeks as well as how badly he was shaking, rattling inside of his armor.

“We’re going to have to take this off, first of all.” Zevran released one of his hands to reach around Alistair’s side, to find the buckles of his armor.

“You don’t have to.” Alistair protested meekly. He wanted to try this, he wanted to know what he was missing, what Zevran had offered him, but he was terrified all the same. He wanted to run, wanted to hide, go back to the chantry and take his vows up as if he’d ever been all that good with them.

“Neither do you, that’s the joy of it.” A series of motions and Alistair’s breastplate came loose and Zevran placed it on the ground beside them neatly. “You can say no at any time, my friend, no judgment here.”

“You say that.” Alistair didn’t know what to do with his hands. Zevran was undressing him, taking his time with it, and he was just sitting there, looking at the bedroll he was on, shaking.

“You don’t have to be so nervous.” Zevran tugged at Alistair’s undershirt and he didn’t know how he’d gotten so undressed already, but he raised his hands and let Zevran pull the thin material away from him.

“I think I do.” Alistair nodded, “Part of my charm.”

“You are quite charming.” Zevran agreed and then moved to his lower half, stripping him of all but his breeches.

And that was when Zevran started to use his mouth. It was a shock at first, Alistair’s muscles tensing, his shivering turning to quaking, so bad that his teeth were chattering, as Zevran traced his muscles with his hot fingers, finding scars and kissing along their lengths. He licked at the hollow of Alistair’s collarbone as his fingertips flicked up his sides, almost tickling. He rubbed at the tense muscles in his shoulders as he leaned up and bit into Alistair’s neck, so gentle it seemed foreign, restrained.

The freezing was gone, now replaced with a heat that traveled through Alistair’s shaking arms. There was a pit of it in his gut, leading down the fire of his groin. He wanted to touch, wanted to do the things he did in secret, always in secret. This was so much different from what he’d come to expect, especially from another man, and he hadn’t expected any of this gentleness.

“I’m going to touch you, Alistair.” Zevran’s hand was hard on his shoulder, the other trailing down his abdomen, down toward the bulge in his breeches.

“I thought you already were.”

Zevran licked his own lips and then moved, fast again, plunging his mouth down onto one of Alistair’s nipples, his hand down into the too hot fabric he was wrapped in. Teeth and tongue switched from biting to circling to sucking and Alistair whined against it, holding himself up with one hand and biting onto his knuckles with the other. He’d touched his nipples before, but always daintily, never with so much force, and he wasn’t sure if they’d even be on him by the time they were done, but he wasn’t sure if he cared regardless.

And then there was Zevran’s hand. It dipped around his penis, fully hard from so little, and started to stroke, just one finger on either side in a v shape going down. It was too tight, not enough space, and Alistair dropped his head forward, trying to keep himself from rocking into another man’s touch.

“Are you ready?” Zevran’s other hand went down, unlaced his breeches, and pulled him out. His eyes were heavy lidded and even darker than usual, his lust on easy display. Alistair hadn’t understood that but this, just this, was already driving him crazy, there was no way that Zevran wouldn’t want it. And it was the sex Zevran lusted for, not him, never him.

He couldn’t speak. Words were too difficult. He nodded instead, mouth dry.

“You’re quite formidable.” Zevran chuckled, so light hearted, as if this weren’t a task for him, some way to appease Alistair. He licked his lips again, staring down at Alistair’s red cock, already starting to drip onto his slowly moving fingers. “You’re going to want to lie down for this.

Alistair did as he was told. It was always easier to obey than do the ordering. Zevran pulled his breeches all the way down and off, leaving him nude and flushed, his penis a hard curving thing against his stomach.

“Yes, very formidable. Good. I like a bit of a challenge.”

Zevran was still wearing his own clothes but Alistair could see him plainly, the outline of his own erection pressed tight against his leggings. How painful to be chafed with any moving, to be confined, to not have release. All of Zevran’s attention was on him, not himself, and Alistair would have protested if he could.

And then Alistair could think of nothing. Which wasn’t much different from how he portrayed himself but this was an overwhelming stillness of mind, the hand leaving him, Zevran’s hot and wet mouth replacing it. Zevran’s tongue pushed against his head and then dipped inside of his foreskin at the base of it, pulling out and swirling around the head once more. Alistair keened at the sensation, the pit in his stomach turning sharp and hard, his muscles straining to keep himself from shoving his body upward into Zevran’s face.

And Zevran did it again. And then he did a third time. And on the fourth Alistair was whimpering because it was too much, suddenly his head was throbbing and aching and the pleasure was more than he could bear and they had just started and he didn’t want to be a disappointment.

Zevran just looked up at him though, a smile playing around Alistair’s cock, and then he bobbed forward, taking the girth of it into his mouth, going more than half of Alistair’s length in one go. He pulled up and Alistair gasped, eyes up on the ceiling of the tent, and then down again, further this time. He pushed back and forth, taking more each time, until Alistair could feel his head touch the sensitive tightness of Zevran’s throat. There was still most of an inch left but he didn’t force it, didn’t do anything, bit his knuckles until they hurt, dug his other hand into Zevran’s bedroll so hard the material was skewed.

The hardness in his stomach tightened more and more as Zevran kept going, going faster, sucking harder, pushing against the bottom of his erection with his tongue. It was tighter than Alistair had ever done with his hand, and so much better, even with how loud Zevran was getting, saliva and suction making a strange enough sound, not to mention the fact that he’d started humming again, differently than before, tuneless and just a sound of pleasure.

That was wrong. There was pleasure in receiving this, surely, but not in the giving. That made no sense. But Zevran was moving, rubbing his own erection against the bedroll, rolling his hips, still clothed.

At one sudden feat, he grabbed Alistair by the hips, and forced himself the rest of the way down, pulling Alistair’s cock into his throat. He held him there for a while, letting the muscles in himself relax, and for a moment Alistair thought he had come, he was leaking so profusely and he could feel himself throb inside of Zevran’s heat.

Zevran released his hips but kept the pressure on his cock. He reached blindly for the humans hands and, once he’d found them, placed them on his scalp. For a moment Alistair didn’t know what to do, couldn’t do anything, but with a hum of encouragement, his hands became fists, Zevran’s blond hair knotted between his fingers. He pulled Zevran up, almost off of his cock, and then pushed him back down. He thought of being gentle, but he couldn’t, and as he shoved himself faster and faster into Zevran’s throat, he couldn’t help but cry out, shoving down and then holding him, his orgasm ripping through him harder than any he’d ever given himself.

Zevran didn’t move, stopped sliding himself against the bedroll, and just let it happen. The only notion that he was there at all was in his swallowing, greedy as he milked out every drop of Alistair’s ejaculate.

When he finally pulled away his hair was a mess, his face was dripping with sweat, and his lips were red and plump from use. He smiled lazily at Alistair and then, slowly, pulled away.

Alistair just lay there, breathing, feeling his body acclimate to what had just happened.

“Was it all you had hoped?” Zevran stood from his place and started to gather Alistair’s clothing.

“More.” Alistair couldn’t even blink. Every part of him was tingling beside his groin and stomach, which were still pulsing with his speeding heart rate.

“Ah, good to know that my service is still as good as my offer then.” He placed Alistair’s stuff beside him and busied himself with something on the other side of the tent. It didn’t look like it was anything really, just something to fill the space between them.

Like this, hair mussed and lips swollen, eyes still dark and lax, Alistair found Zevran beautiful, and wasn’t that a strange thought? He decided to peg that on his orgasm addled brain and not to worry about it.

“You should probably return to your tent now,” Zevran was doing his best not to look at him and Alistair’s brain started to turn back on and worry. “think of what the other’s will think.”

“What about you?” the words sounded groggy even to him.

“What about me?”

“You haven’t come yet.”

Zevran adjusted himself to keep his erection out of sight. “Don’t you worry about it. That is for me to deal with.”

“But I-“

“No.” Zevran glared at him, furious for a brief instant, but the look quickly faded into a more resigned look, still very different from the Zevran that fought alongside them in daylight. “No, I can take care of this. You go to your tent and rest.”

Alistair wanted to argue but he was in the tent of an assassin and, not only was he an assassin that Alistair had threatened many times over, but he was an assassin that he now felt a terrible need to repay.


End file.
